


S(he) Be(lie)ve(d)

by Vivagrazia



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Gen, Sad, Torture, Ward POV, Ward sympathetic, conflicted feelings, nothing personal, season 1 episode 20, the end isn't that happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 16:25:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6527461
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vivagrazia/pseuds/Vivagrazia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In order to save her life, Ward has to make Skye believe he's the monster she thinks he might be.</p><p>(AU of Nothing Personal where Mike is forced to hurt Skye instead of Ward, causing Grant to think of other ways to break her.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	S(he) Be(lie)ve(d)

**Author's Note:**

> Trigger Warnings in the end notes!!!

“Time’s up,” Ward said. Skye flinched in surprise and turned from her struggling to rid herself of the handcuffs. “You can tell me where to unlock the drive, or you can tell him.”

 

Skye stared at Grant briefly. Though her blank face didn’t waver, he could swear he watched her delete any semblance of humanity she’d thought Ward might have had. She’d clearly given up on him as a source of help to her, moving her gaze to Peterson.

 

“Mike, please,” Skye began. “I know you don’t want to do this.”

 

Ward turned his head. He didn’t have to hear her beg.

 

He didn’t want to.

 

Ward leaned against the wall and mostly feigned nonchalance, though he did tune out slightly at points. She reminded Mike who he was, a father. Contrary to Skye’s hopes, this in turn reminded him what was at stake.

 

Ward began listening more intently when Deathlok’s voice raised. He moved closer to Skye as though a predator cornering its prey.

 

“There’s no way out of this Skye,” Deathlock told her. Then he growled out, “Tell us how to unlock the drive.”

 

Skye stared. Blank.

 

“No.”

 

Ward pushed himself away from the wall. “Damn it, Skye.”

 

“You could have shot me back in Italy but you didn’t. They made Quinn do it because there’s still good in you Mike. And I don’t think you’re gonna hurt me.”

_Damn her damn her,_ Ward thought to himself. She wasn’t trained. She wasn’t ready for this at all. She had no idea what torture felt like and defiance would only get her so far.

 

Though, she had been shot. She’d felt death’s hand grip and pull her before that miracle drug had batted it away. The way she kept eye contact with Peterson even showed experience beyond the level Ward was aware she had. Pleading only did so much, but it was a worthy try with someone Skye had known as a friend.

 

But she didn’t know what Mike had done. She hadn’t seen the murders, the public torments. She couldn’t know he was so far-gone.

 

Whether Skye expected it or not, after the long pause staling the air from her proclamation, Mike proved her wrong.

 

His metal hand reached out harshly and grabbed her wrist, yanking the material of her jacket up her arm.

 

Ward steadied his breaths. He knew this could happen, but he didn’t think it would. He never _imagined_ it would. Skye would be sympathetic, she’d understand why they needed the information. Understood what Ward had done. What Mike had done. She would cave.

 

Except… she hadn’t.

 

Peterson had her free arm in a death grip as he pulled her forward, Skye’s other hand straining against the cuff. She would have cuts from that.

 

Ward winced in his mind that her injuries were about to be so much worse.

 

“Last chance,” he said, and though cold with attempted indifference Ward heard the mild heartbreak in his voice.

 

Skye shook her head as tears formed in her yes. “I’m so sorry, Mike.”

 

Ward could have choked on shock and disbelief, because that wasn’t a snarky remark. It wasn’t sarcasm or spitting in the face of danger. She was truly sorry… and she was the one about to be hurt.

 

Peterson sighed in disappointment, leaving the room still for brief moments.

 

He started slow. After he’d gained a knife from one of his metal compartments he carved long, thin lines up and down Skye’s exposed arm. She stared at it the entire time. Barely reacted at all, other than bracing herself against the pain. And staring.

 

Staring. Staring. Staring.

 

Ward was staring.

 

Skye was bleeding.

 

_‘You’re just gonna sit back and watch me bleed, until it’s your turn to pull the trigger!’  
‘You think I would do that? That I would let that happen to you?’_

 

He had been so sure that the answer to that question would be never.

 

Now that’s exactly what he was doing.

 

Though the red was coming out in small tendrils that would occasionally dab into circles instead of lines as the cuts were so shallow. Peterson was going easy on her, or testing her.

 

She was failing the test. If she wouldn’t so much as make a noise of discomfort against this, it wouldn’t be long before Deathlok’s handlers would make him move forward to something else.

 

 _C’mon Skye,_ Ward begged in his mind. _That’s blood._ You’re _blood. Don’t let him do that to you. Don’t let your pride get in the way. At least scream. Just show that it hurts._

 

She didn’t.

 

Deathlok repeated a mantra of “how do we unlock the drive” so many times that it didn’t even sound like a question anymore. Just the battle chant that echoed Skye’s pain. Her tears could be a flag of surrender, but she refused to let them fall. She bit her lip in defiance and flashed the man angry eyes.

 

She wouldn’t so much as acknowledge Ward was in the room. The disregard hurt more than any defiant stares of curse words she could throw at him.

 

He was dead to her. Not worth her time to be angry at.

 

Mike stopped and moved around to mess with something. Skye closed her eyes, bracing the relief she wouldn’t be permitted to keep.

 

When Deathlok turned back another object had popped out of his suit. A canister of some sort, that soon lit fire.

 

Skye’s eyes reflected the blaze and illuminated the horror behind such. She couldn’t hide it any more.

 

Ward moved forward and smacked Deathlock lightly with the back of his hand on the shoulder. “Hey, what the hell?”

 

“The other method wasn’t working,” Peterson informed him in monotone.

 

“Yeah, but isn’t _that_ a step to far?”

 

“These are Garrett’s orders,” he said, reminding Ward to hate himself just a little more. His superior was the one doing this. “If you’re squeamish, leave. There’s no point to you being here.”

 

Ward blinked, stepping back without saying another word. He sure as hell wasn’t leaving.

 

Why wasn’t he leaving?

 

He hated watching this. Skye made him turn into so much of a weak coward that he couldn’t even do this himself, though God knew he wasn’t protecting her.

 

Ward looked over to her. Unsurprisingly she still didn’t acknowledge his existence. He didn’t think she was able to notice much of anything anymore, though. She stared, mouth ajar downward toward her injured arm. That gaze went passed the blood, to the floor and into a dark abyss of her thoughts.

 

Mike gripped her arm tightly once again and brought her back to the present. She winced and went back to her determined scowling. Ward crossed his arms and paced, covering up his inclination to turn away from this scene. He still heard the fire light. He heard Skye scream.

 

Ward flinched at the sound, teeth grinding in upset. _It will be over soon,_ he told himself. This was far beyond her pain threshold.

 

But, being proven wrong for perhaps the thirtieth time that night, it didn’t end soon. It did not end at all. Eventually he heard the handcuffs rattle harshly and a wail rip from her throat. Cowardice or not, Grant could not bear to look away any longer and whipped around.

 

Skye was on her knees, shaking and trembling. Her hands were held up and outright, one still being cuffed and the other supported by Deathlok’s hand that was not currently burning her. The other was _still_ burning her!

 

“That is enough!” Ward shouted, stomping over and ripping Skye’s arm away from Peterson. It was an easier feat than he imagined it would be, considering the guy was a _cyborg._

 

Skye fell to the floor. Huddling backward, she cradled her arm and bit her lip so hard Ward was sure there was blood there as well.

 

“What are you doing?” Mike asked sternly.

 

“That’s too much! Garrett wants her alive, remember?”

 

“She’s still alive,” Peterson responded.

 

Man, this guy really was gone. Skye had been pleading to his humanity, but it was as though Ward were talking to a robot.

 

“You can’t burn a person like that and expect no fallout. She could get an infection.”

 

Mike cocked his head. “I’m sorry. I don’t have as much experience in this form of interrogation as you. You can finish it if you’d like.”

 

That was the _last_ thing he wanted to do.

 

And Ward was fairly certain Mike was aware of that.

 

Grant waved the cyborg off. “Maybe I will. But first I’m going to dress her wound. She’s a computer specialist. If you damaged her _nerves_ -“

 

“Garrett wants the drive more than he wants her undamaged or even alive,” Peterson said. “You might want to remember that.”

 

Ward was about to bite back another response, but he swallowed it. Something the guy said resonated in him. Almost like… like it was a warning.

 

On second thought Grant was sure it wasn’t, he was just telling Ward the facts. The cold hard facts that would keep his kid alive and get Skye killed. Still, Ward opted not to respond.

 

He moved over to Skye. She’d stood up, but still kept her arm protectively close to herself. She wearily eyed Grant as he moved to uncuff her, but she didn’t protest. She didn’t make a sound.

 

Ward fastened his hand around her shoulder. “We’ll be back,” he hissed. “And you’d better have a more useful tactic in mind.”

 

Mike didn’t even blink. “I’ll work on that.”

 

Ward scoffed without being entirely sure why, and guided Skye up the stairs.

 

\--------BREAK-------

 

He took her to the Cage. His first instinct was to bring her to her bunk just for the familiarity of it, but she was a prisoner. A prisoner who needed to give up intel.

 

That’s how she clearly saw it at least. Ward’s hopes of gaining her understanding had been dashed very quickly when she’d called him a serial killer and a Nazi.

 

She was surprisingly quiet now. He wrapped the gauze gently around her wrist and she just sat, scowled and stared at her hands. Maybe she was realizing how hopeless the situation was for her.

 

 _It doesn’t have to be,_ Ward thought. If only he could get her onto his side…

 

“Skye,” he started. She didn’t look at him. He didn’t really expect acknowledgement though, and kept going. “Skye, you know you’re going to have to tell us.”

 

Her gaze didn’t move. She was going to burn a hole into that table.

 

“He’s not going to stop hurting you,” Ward told her, “until you tell us how to open that damn drive.” She stayed still. “You could die!”

 

“Then I die!” she spat, fury in her features until a sudden sadness took them over.

 

Now he was angry. “You’re going to let yourself die for information?” he asked incredulously. “You are worth _so_ much more than that.”

 

“You’re leaving me no choice,” she choked out.

 

“All you have to do is tell us,” he said as he finished up the wrapping. She pulled her arm back and retreated inside herself once again. “Why won’t you just tell us?”

 

She sat silent again and Ward didn’t think she was going to answer. But eventually she whispered, “Because I’m a SHIELD agent.”

 

Ward stood out of sheer frustration. “SHIELD is dead!” He huffed a hysterical laugh, finding nothing about the situation funny. “You’re going to _die_ for an organization that was destroyed years before you even joined.”

 

Skye frowned, shaking her head and refusing to look at him; refusing to shed those hiding tears.

 

Ward sighed, sitting back down to be at eye level with her once again. He barely even realized his own motions but reached out a hand to lie on her shoulder to try some soothing words.

 

He didn’t get the chance.

 

Skye’s dark and fury filled eyes snapped to him, pinning him down with hatred.

 

“Don’t touch me,” she spat. She flicked her head deliberately away.

 

Ward could have strangled this woman. Because he realized that underneath all her deep-rooted beliefs and desire to help those in need, it was her pride that she was going to die for.

 

_‘I’m a SHIELD agent’._

 

She believed that. Ward knew Skye believed that to her core. She had found herself, what she wanted to be and had deemed it good. She had deemed it a worthy cause.

 

And she was too proud, had too much integrity, to just let it slip out of her fingers.

 

_‘Garrett wants the drive more than he wants her alive. You might want to remember that.’_

 

Maybe that _had_ been a warning. If they couldn’t get Skye to talk she would inevitably go to Garrett. _He_ would pick her apart piece by piece.

 

Grant wouldn’t let that happen, but he had to help Garrett. He had to get the information off that drive or his mentor was as good as dead. He didn’t want to hurt Skye, he wasn’t sure he physically could…

 

Then it hit him.

 

Skye might not have wanted to wound her pride, but it was the only acceptable loss in Ward’s mind.

 

Skye sat in the chair Ward knew to be a rather uncomfortable one, waiting. Quietly waiting for someone to come in and hurt her again.

 

He hated this.

 

And for what he was about to do, he hated himself.

 

(She would hate him too.)

 

Ward stepped in close to her but she didn’t look up. Quickly, he cupped her chin so that she would see his face. He kissed her.

 

She slapped him.

 

Skye stood from the chair near faster than humanly possible, avoiding his touch as though his skin had a high level of toxicity. She was heaving more than when she’d been being tortured, pressing her back against the opposite wall.

 

“I told you not to touch me,” she warned, her voice shaken but feral. The snarl of a desperate animal.

 

“I’m sorry,” said Ward, so unable to truly convey how much. “I’m so sorry.”

 

She tried to run. The room was miniscule though and he caught her easily, pinning Skye’s good hand above her head on the wall while avoiding the burnt one. He held her in place with a leg.

 

Skye was near hysterical. “Is this what you do with people you have _real feelings_ for, Ward?” She laughed. “I think you’re confusing feelings with something else.”

 

“This doesn’t have to do with that,” he said, his voice cold and hard and everything he never wanted to be with her. “You just have to tell me the information, and I’ll stop.”

 

_Please, please tell me._

 

But he would not go through with it. If she was too proud to let the information go, willing to sacrifice her body’s pride in turn, he would stop. He would let Deathlok have her. He would let Garrett have her. He wouldn’t turn her into the psychological pulp he had been minced into when he’d been younger.

 

He would stop.

 

She laughed again. “Somehow I don’t believe you. I can’t believe that this isn’t something _personal_ ,” she spat.

 

He caressed her head and she flinched. He smoothed out her hair and she gagged.

 

He hated it. He hated it but it was working.

 

This was truly a new low in his life.

 

“Peterson is watching,” he whispered. “I don’t want it this way Skye, but I will…”

 

She would hate him forever. He was giving up any semblance of a chance he had with her. But it was a small chance anyway, and Skye’s life was worth something so much bigger. He did have a small hope tug at him that she would let him continue so that he could stop, reveal to her that he would never go through with it. But then she’d be given right back to the wolves…

 

He had to sell this.

 

“Ward, don’t…” she seethed, her voice caught somewhere between defiance and begging.

 

She was scared. He was scaring her.

 

He kissed her again. Hard and rough, _violating_ her.

 

He felt the warmth of her abused arm when she used it to try and shove him off.

 

There was no way out of this hell.

 

He had to fight the sickening tightening of his stomach as he clawed sloppily at her shirt. The top buttons popped off slowly. She knit her mouth shut.

 

_Damn it Skye, damn it, tell me or this will have been for nothing!_

 

He stopped working her clothes before he got too far and set his attention on her face, wiping a hand across her lips.

 

He wasn’t sure how to go. He wasn’t sure to be dark and taunting, to try to show her some true emotion of his authentic feelings. What would she respond to? He had underestimated her so much this day, and it would be the cause of both of their demise if he failed now.

 

“I know you were ready for anything,” he told her, and cupped her chin. “You were prepared earlier, but you will _never_ be the same after this. I don’t think you’re ready for that. Do you?”

 

He could not, would never be able to explain the amount of hate, betrayal, disbelief, and rage that played on her face. That radiated away from her.

 

And she nodded.

 

“Yeah,” she sobbed out. The first actual noise that resembled crying. “I do.”

 

_No._

 

Ward didn’t know how to proceed.

 

She’d accepted it.

 

He should have known this wouldn’t work. Ward was at an utter loss. He’d given up his humanity with Skye and he hadn’t been able to help her.

 

He sighed, dejected. Resigned. “Ok,” he told her, patting the hair behind her head before recoiling his hand.

 

“Wait.”

 

Ward moved backed towards her at the sound of her voice. She’d scrunched up her nose in disgust and closed her eyes in preparation. She hadn’t seen him back away.

 

“The co-ordinates aren’t based on latitude, it’s longitude,” she said, her voice stale as she stared at the ground. “If I… if I start the hack, once we reach 30,000 feet it automatically unlocks.”

 

She stared up at him miserably. “You’re right,” she conceded, voice thick with tears. “I’m not ready for anything.”

 

Ward couldn’t speak. He’d done it, he’d saved her.

 

By breaking her.

 

He honestly couldn’t say it was still the preferred outcome.

 

She shoved him lightly and he moved away easily. “Please leave me alone,” she said, her voice in shards. Skye’s fire had burnt out and nothing was left but a begging, scared girl. He’d done that to her.

 

Ward gave her the grace not to look at her anymore, leaving the room immediately. Deathlok was just on the outside. He’d been watching the feed.

 

“So. That’s your kind of torture,” he said flatly.

 

That man hadn’t been Grant’s fan before. Ward was sure he was despised now.

 

After Deathlock collected her to start the hack he returned Skye to the cell. She let go and cried immediately, sitting on the Cage floor. There was a chair and she didn’t go for it. For hours. She only cried into her knees for minutes, but she stayed in that position far longer.

 

And what had Ward earned her, eh? A lifetime job with Hydra. A ticket to the “incentive’s” program, if they could procure a loved one of hers. Until then, he might not have saved her much torture at all.

 

He didn’t know what to do, and once again was faced with an impossible choice. Betray Garrett and let Skye go, or attempt to convert her into a Hydra loyalist.

 

He didn’t choose, then. He put it off.

 

By the grace of a karma he didn’t deserve, he never had to make the choice.

 

Later that night Coulson crept onto the plane to rescue Skye while Ward was transporting them back to Garrett. He saw the man come out from the wheels. Grant didn’t alert Peterson. He didn’t so much as attempt to make a move or shut the doors.

 

And Coulson took her away.

 

Any chance he had at redemption in her eyes, at understanding, he’d given up for her. Even that hadn’t been a worthy trade for what he’d taken from her. He’d taken her trust and forced her to hand over her pride.

 

She would never understand that he’d been trying to help her, but at least he understood where he belonged now. With Garrett and Hydra.

 

The experience had made things clearer. Skye was a weakness. She made things complicated. She made things hard and impossible, and he knew he would _never_ gain her forgiveness. So he would never ask for it.

 

His path in life was forged in the lives he’d taken and the lies he’d told, and he knew now his only choice was to follow it straight to hell.

**Author's Note:**

> Triggers: Torture by burns and cutting; Ward tries to get Skye to believe he will sexually abuse her by kissing her (though I hope it is blatantly clear he would not actually go through with it passed that.)
> 
> Wrote this mooooonths ago and wasn't too fond of it so never posted... feel free to let me know what you think but pleeeease be gentle, I honestly never mean to offend anyone.


End file.
